


teenagers scare the living shit out of [bucky barnes]

by butmomilovemyboys



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood, Drugged Peter Parker, Frenemies Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapping, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, again with the blood! i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butmomilovemyboys/pseuds/butmomilovemyboys
Summary: “I cut it because it was too long. Is that a crime?”“I like it,” Peter says, feeling like he was de-escalating an elderly married couple. “Easier to fight bad guys without, you know, pullable hair.”“Yes, thank you, Peter,” Bucky responds, staring daggers at Sam. “I’m glad someone understands.”“He’s just being polite because he doesn’t want you to keep staring at him like that,” Sam argues back. “You’re scaring him.”“I am not.” He whips his head to Peter. “I’m not scary.”Peter gulps. “You’re a little scary.”~or the one where peter gets kidnapped, along side sam and bucky, who have no clue how to help him when they realize he's been drugged with something.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Sam Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 261





	teenagers scare the living shit out of [bucky barnes]

**Author's Note:**

> well i really want peter in tfatws so i wrote some myself. also this is the second fic in a row with peter throwing up blood. idk why. it makes for good story telling.

Peter is only about seventy-four percent sure he is alive at this moment. 

His movements felt very sluggish, his skin felt heavy, and any thought he was having was coming to him so slowly that he wasn’t even sure about anything besides his common sense. 

As he comes to, the resisters just how _cold_ the floor was, and then he notices the restraints on his wrists and ankles. So that combined with the hazy nature of his head adding itself up to...great. He’s been kidnapped. 

He tries to reach into his head for memories of the day. He starts off with the morning: hiding from the cops. Beck’s cute little “reveal” not only got him trending on Twitter (#spidermanisoverparty), but also got him a nationwide manhunt from the whole world. 

Don’t worry, Shield said. We’ll cover for you, Shield said. Well, maybe not in those words, but news flash, they hadn’t. 

So Peter had been hiding out in the Stark house, laying low in the basement bunker he was mighty glad Tony had the sense to build before he died. Pepper made _really_ good mac and cheese and Morgan kept him company, although there’s not much a seven year old and an eighteen year old have in common. He hadn’t seen Ned in weeks, nor MJ, besides the occasional text from an untapped phone. May snuck in every now and then, but even those visits were few and far between. Besides that, he hadn’t seen anyone physically for awhile. In short, it was a miserable senior year.

Okay, so he didn’t do jackshit today. It was just like any other day this year, rewatching Merlin on Netflix and making playdough monsters with Morgan. So how the hell did he end up here? 

That’s when he remembers his quick romp in the woods near the Stark cabin. Pepper had said that things were quieting down, so if he wanted to get some fresh air, now would be a good time. 

He was breathing in the smell of the lake, taking in the feel of something other than carpet under his feet, when the hairs on his neck stood up. 

And now, he’s here, lying lifelessly on cold ground. Fantastic. This will make a great college essay. They’ll eat this shit up. 

He twitches his face as he attempts to shake the tiredness and sluggishness away from his eyes, finding it more difficult than he imagined. It takes a while, but eventually he wakes up enough to roll onto his side and sit up. 

Taking in his setting, all he sees is thick, dark metal, and the faint outline of a door. There was one flickering light above him, creating a ring of dim yellow around his freezing body. In the light, he gets a somewhat good look at himself, noting that whoever had him thankfully left his clothes intact. His wrists were chapped and raw at the metal restraints around him, as were his ankles. He winces as he tries to move them, the pain waking him up a bit more. 

“Youch,” he whispers, his own voice echoing off the wall. “Fuck.” 

As he finally sits all the way up, the metal door swings open with an annoyingly loud screech. A figure stands in the doorway, faceless as the light behind him covers his front in shadows. 

“So,” the figure begins in a rough voice. “You’re Peter Parker.” 

Peter blinks at him. “Yes, and you’ve kidnapped me. I’m sure we’re going to get along famously. You gotta name?”

“You can call me Doc, for now. And no, _I_ didn’t kidnap you. I have people for that.” He steps into the room, and Peter can see him as a tall man, gangly, with dark hair and even darker eyes. “I just wanted to be the one to get my hands on you. Do you know what you’re worth?” 

“Are you about to give me a self-love speech?” 

He ignores Peter. “There are thousands of people willing to do whatever it takes to see what makes Spiderman tick. And now that we’ve got a name and a face…” He walks closer to Peter, to which Peter responds by hurriedly trying to back away. 

“This is very flattering,” Peter says, trying to ignore the pain in his wrists. “But I feel like at this point I’d rather be arrested.” 

“Well, what’s the fun in that?” he responds, crossing his arms. “No, instead I think we’ll keep this between you and me. Besides, I’m not here to experiment on you, like others would.” 

Peter scoffs. “So you’re not gonna cut me open and take my blood? Lame.” 

“No, that won’t be necessary. I have _other_ experiments in mind, but not the ones you’re used to.” 

“But you want to know what makes me tick?”

“In a physiological sense, yes. You see, I’m a professor.” He walks circles around Peter. “I study human behavior. And superheroes--well, they have me stumped. That’s why you’re here.” 

“You wanna study my...psyche?” 

“Not you, specifically. Just superheroes in general. I just get the added bonus of it being _Spiderman._ ” 

“How did you even find me?” 

“Oh, I figured you were staying with the Starks, given your very interesting relationship with the late Tony Stark,” he replies nonchalantly “And I’m not the only one who does. But Mrs. Stark has got that place under high security. I just had to wait until you went far enough out.” 

“If you did anything to them--” Peter tries to stand, but fails. 

“Easy, I want nothing to do with her and the little one.” He begins to grin. “It’s you I want.” 

_Fuck._

Doc undoes his restraints roughly. Peter nurses his raw wrists dumbly, deciding to keep his mouth shut before he gets himself killed. He tries to keep his cool as he watches him pull out a very large syringe of _something,_ but has a hard time as the needle injects into him quite painfully. 

“What is that? What are you giving me?” His whole body reacts violently to the injection, but he finds himself lacking in his usual super strength. 

“Just something to keep you under control,” Doc says. “Mixed with a little something to help with testing.” He throws Peter back to the floor roughly. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’ll see.” Doc goes over to the door, and knocks loudly on it. It makes Peter’s ears ring. “Send ‘em in!” 

Peter furrows his eyebrows in confusion as the door swings open. Two more bodies enter the doorway, and then are violently thrown into the room. 

As they collapse onto the ground roughly, Peter recognizes them as none other Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. 

Great. 

They were dressed casually, looking quite mundane.

“What the hell, man? Why are you kidnapping Avengers for sport?” Peter exclaims, watching the two men sit up and try to silently figure out what was going on. 

“I needed people for you to bounce off of,” Doc responds nonchalantly. “They weren’t all that hard to find, either.”

“I _told_ you we shouldn’t have gone to that bar,” Bucky gripes towards Sam, rubbing the back of his head. 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Get over yourself, you wanted to go.” 

Doc looks at them with intrigue. “This oughta be fun, right boys?” And without another word, he slams the door shut. 

Peter finds himself looking between the two of them, as they stare at him in bewilderment.

“Hey,” is all he can manage for words. 

“Hey, Spidey,” Wilson replies. “Long time no see.” 

“Got any clue what we're doing here?” Bucky asks, monotone. 

Peter sighs. “Apparently I’m being studied by that really nice man out there. It was either this or be arrested, so...yeah.” 

They both go a little too quiet for Peter’s liking, with weird looks of pity flashing across both of their faces. 

“Yeah, we’re sorry about all that,” Bucky says, awkwardly stumbling between all of his words. 

“If it makes you feel better, we know what it’s like,” Sam tries. “Kinda.” 

Peter doesn’t respond, instead he goes back to focusing on his wrists. They each take a side of the room and fall into silence. 

He tries to think what Mr.Stark would do, but instead, he just focuses all his energy on trying not to burst into tears in front of the two adults.

~

The silence ends up getting too loud for Peter, but when he looks back to say something, the energy is awkward. He stays silent. 

Bucky stares at Peter with a look he simply cannot read. He looks pissed off at Peter, but that could just be his resting face. Peter tries to stare back, but can’t help but feel like it doesn’t look anything more than a light scowl. 

“You cut your hair,” he says suddenly. 

Bucky’s stare cracks for a second as he blinks at Peter. “Yeah.” 

“That wasn’t an insult. Just that the last time I saw you, your hair was long,” he explains awkwardly. Of course, curse his Parker luck, he had gotten stuck with the two Avengers who probably found him the most annoying. They’re first meeting certainly didn’t set them on the right path to friendship, and the other times he had been in the same room with these guys were for funerals and meetings. Unlike most of the other members, he had never spent any downtime with the Winter Soldier or Falcon. Or was it Captain America? He wasn’t sure, things were blurry there. 

“Buck had a middle school girl breakdown and cut all of his hair off,” Sam interects from his side, back against the wall. “I heard My Chemical Romance and the faint sounds of crying coming from his room one night.” 

“That’s not true,” Bucky argues. “I don’t even know what My Chemical Romance _is.”_

“My apologies, it was sad Bing Crosby.” 

“I cut it because it was too long. Is that a crime?” 

“I like it,” Peter says, feeling like he was de-escalating an elderly married couple. “Easier to fight bad guys without, you know, pullable hair.” 

“Yes, thank you, Peter,” Bucky responds, staring daggers at Sam. “I’m glad _someone_ understands.” 

“He’s just being polite because he doesn’t want you to keep staring at him like that,” Sam argues back. “You’re scaring him.”

“I am _not.”_ He whips his head to Peter. “I’m not scary.” 

Peter gulps. “You’re a little scary.” 

“Don’t pin the kid between us, dude,” Sam says. 

“Will you shut up?” 

Peter listens to them bicker on about just about anything, and while it is a good distraction from the fact he felt like he was about to vomit up his entire stomach, he still felt like shit. Whatever Doc had put in him seemed to be screwing around with his body, because the longer he listened to the older men argue about hair, the more pain he felt run through his whole body. 

Eventually he slumps down the metal wall onto the ground, trying to steady his breathing as his insides start to burn. He tries to be quiet about it, partly because he doesn’t want to embarrass himself and party because he doesn’t want to give Doc any satisfaction. However, when his nose starts to bleed out of the blue, he can’t help but make a small groan. 

They stop talking immediately. From his new spot on the floor, he sees Bucky look at him with this new look of concern. “Woah, kid, you good?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Sam whispers. He scoots his way closer to Peter, awkwardly placing a cool hand on his forehead. Peter watches as he winces and pulls back. “Kid’s burning up.” 

“What did they give you?” Bucky asks softly, suddenly at his other side. 

“Couldn’t tell ya,” Peter replies, shrugging. The cold floor felt nice against his body, so nice he felt like he could probably fall asleep right there. 

Wilson shakes his shoulder sharply. “Hey! No sleeping, Spidey. Not until we figure out what's wrong with you.” 

Bucky puts his fingers to Peter's neck, feeling for a pulse. He doesn’t say anything, but he looks at Sam intensely. 

“Let’s sit you up, sound good?” Sam holds up Peter’s head as they move him back into a sitting position. His head hangs limply against the wall, and his vision gets increasingly blurry. He feels like he should be more worried than he is, but the pain was kind of making it hard to focus on anything else. 

“I don’t understand what exactly he’s studying,” Bucky retorts. “If all he’s doing is fucking with the kid.” 

Sam shakes Peter again when he starts to slump over. “I don’t know, but I’m freaking out. We need to keep him awake.” 

“Talk to us, Peter,” says Bucky, trying to distract him. “What goes on in your head?”

“Lots of things,” Peter says. “Probably too many.” 

“Yeah? I’m sure.” Bucky looks up at Sam. “What do teenagers these days like?”

“How should I know? This guy’s, like, the _only_ one I know,” he responds. 

“I like Star Wars,” Peter supplies, slurring. “And MJ.” 

“I don’t know what a Star Wars is,” Bucky admits, earning a laugh from Sam, to which he gives an eyeroll. “But tell me more about this MJ person.” 

Peter smiles lightly. “She’s my super awesome girlfriend.” 

“Oh? Spidey’s got game?” Wilson inquires. “I can’t picture it.”

“Nope, she’s real. She likes drawing and true crime podcasts. Dream girl.” Peter lazily lets himself daydream about her, remembering their brief beginning stages of their relationship fondly.

“You love her?” Bucky asks, weirdly sincere. 

Peter inhales. He hadn’t really thought about that. “Yeah, I think so. I just don’t wanna tell her yet.”

“Damn, young love,” Sam says. 

“Haven’t seen her in awhile though. My company has been…” he takes a deep breath to keep himself awake. “My company has mostly been Morgan Stark.” 

“What’s that like?”

“I’ve watched The Little Mermaid everyday for six months,” Peter responds, his eyelids drooping. “But otherwise, she’s fantastic.” He starts to curl into himself as more pain arrives in his chest, and he gasps as he tries to breath right. “Am I gonna die?”

“No,” they say at the same time. Sam lets Peter rest his head on his shoulder, and if he was supposed to be embarrassed, he couldn’t think clearly enough to be. 

“Okay, what hurts?” Bucky asks, trying to find a place to put his hands. He eventually settles on putting one on Peter’s shoulder and the other on his knee. 

“Lots,” Peter replies. “Insides.” 

“You’re insides hurt?” Bucky echoes, his tone unusually kind. He was suddenly a lot less scary. “Like how?”

“Like they’re fucking, I don’t know--” Peter swallowed hard. “Burning.” 

Sam stiffens. “Okay, not good.”

“Definitely not good,” Bucky agrees. 

“Look at you guys agreeing on something,” Peter jokes, smiling. When he smiles, however, both men seem to get paler. He reaches up to wipe his mouth, only to find the culprit to their surprise: blood. 

_That’s_ when things get decidedly worse. 

As if he was struck by lightning, Peter shoots up violently, spewing blood from his mouth like fireworks. He gasps for air, doubling over into the floor. The blood just doesn’t seem to stop; it explodes out of him like a broken water tap. He makes strange gurgling noises and broken gasps as he pounds a fist into the floor. It hurts like hell and won’t let up. His insides continue to burn. 

“Jesus! Fuck!” Sam yells, trying to steady Peter. He holds Peter’s neck as he screams into the floor. “You’re alright, kid, you’re alright.” 

He is very much not alright, so the only words he can get out are very strained, _“Help--me--”_

Bucky takes it upon himself to start knocking vigorously on the door. “Motherfucker! You’re killing him!” 

“It’s okay, Spidey, it’s all good. Just keep breathing.” Sam’s voice is comforting, all things considered, and he relaxes as much as he can. It’s not much, but it’s something. 

“Sam--Sam--” Peter calls out, hacking up his intestines. 

“Shh, I’ve got you, kid,” he assures him, holding him up from landing first face in his own blood. Sam sits him up as it starts to slow down, but that’s not before Peter feels himself lose all control of himself. 

He lands hard on his back, drowning in his own blood, shaking against the floor. Sam and Bucky’s faces stare down at him as they shout things at him. Peter can’t hear them, but judging by their looks, it’s nothing good. 

He feels his eyes start to roll back into his head as Sam cups his face, trying to keep him awake. 

The blood finally consumes him, and Peter burns into darkness. 

~

He wakes up in Sam’s arms. 

Well, sort of. Sam seems to be holding him up against himself, one arm pulling Peter against his chest, and the other at Sam’s side. Bucky sits on his other side, his head dropping to his chest as he sleeps. Peter can tell Sam must be sleeping, too. He’s covered in blood--all three of them are. It's a grotesque sight. He feels a bit better though--less pain, and more pure exhaustion. He knocks his head back onto Sam’s shoulder. He could afford to be a little tired. 

He tries not to think about the embarrassment he’ll feel once all three of them wake up. However, he lets himself fall back asleep, realizing suddenly that they now would be considered friends. 

~

Rhodey rescues them the next day. 

He’s lying dizzily against his wall, Sam and Bucky walking back and forth trying to come up with _something,_ when the door is blasted away. 

Peter shoots up all too quickly, finding himself trying to keep consciousness. Through his hazy vision, he sees the blurry image of the War Machine armor coming in from the giant whole in the wall. 

“Holy shit, am I glad to see you!” he hears Sam cry. 

“Please tell me you _annihilated_ that asshole,” Bucky says, and Peter watches as Sam and Bucky race to his side. “Because we have beef.” 

“Hey, Pete,” Rhodey says, ignoring the other two. “You look rough.” 

“I’ve been hacking out my organs for twenty four hours,” he says slowly. Bucky and Sam each take an arm, Peter’s feet dragging as they lead him out. 

“Sorry, kid. You weren’t that easy to find.” Rhodey takes Peter into his arms from the other two, and Peter practically melts into the cool metal. 

“Whatever. I bled all over the Winter Soldier and now we’re friends,” Peter tells him, half awake. “Funny how that works.” 

“You bled all over me too!” Sam shouts somewhere behind him. 

“It would have been too clunky to say both of you,” Peter replies. “I was going for a comedic effect.” 

They stay silent as they enter the quinjet, and Peter tries to stay awake as they put him in the medbay. It’s hard work, as it seems the last effects of the drugs were extreme exhaustion. 

“Hey, Rhodey,” he whispers as he plugs an IV into Peter. 

“What’s up, kid?” 

“That guy, Doc. What were his studies on me?” 

Rhodey sighs. “I’m not sure. I think he wanted to know how those two knuckleheads would react if their teammate got hurt.” 

“What makes superheroes tick,” Peter recalls. 

“Yeah,” Rhodey agrees. He goes silent for a minute. “He got killed in the crossfire.” 

“Oh,” Peter says. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.” 

“Well, if he was alive, you’d be worse off,” Rhodey tries. He hands water bottles to Sam and Bucky, who sit awkwardly on separate beds. 

“I guess,” Peter says. He never likes it when people get killed. Even at his expense. 

“I’ve got a question for you,” Rhodey breaks into his thoughts before he can spiral. “How the _hell_ did you put up with these two for so long?” 

“Being half-dead helped.” He smiles lightly, looking over to them. 

“I’m never having kids,” Bucky says. “If Pete here is any example, they are messy.” 

“Who would want to have kids with you, anyway?” Sam retorts, smacking him with a towel. 

“Rude. I am _raw_ sex appeal,” he responds. 

“Ew, gross. Never say that again.” 

Peter gives Rhodey a look before finally falling asleep. When he does, he dreams of his new work friends. Hopefully, their next adventures would be less bloody. 


End file.
